the floor.
Sirens wail and speed toward the house. Jack and I spring off the bench and charge to open the front door. Two sheriff cars barrel down the driveway at top speed, kicking up gravel, then skid to a stop behind the ambulance in front of the Big House. The two deputies in the first car barely allow it to come to a stop before jumping out and racing up the front steps.
The first, a thick-necked, muscle-bound specimen of crime-fighting prowess, clasps his hand on the grip of his holstered revolver. “Where’s the crime scene?” he asks Jack.
“Upstairs, hang a right, then head to the end of the hall.”
Muscles and his partner fly up the stairs. A second later the Beaufort County sheriff jogs up the porch steps, then wipes the soles of his buffed cowboy boots on the mat before stepping into the house. Moving with less urgency than his deputies, he removes his ten-gallon hat. His close-shorn gray hair sets off his light brown skin. “Morning. I’m Sheriff Walker. Beau home?”
I rise off the bench. “No, but he’s on his way. Mrs. Beaumont’s upstairs. In the master bathroom. The paramedics are up there, too.” Swallowing hard over the lump rising in my throat, I point in the general direction of the growing commotion upstairs. Even from down here, I hear their shocked and almost excited voices. St. Helena’s a pretty sleepy island so I’m guessing they don’t come across many dead bodies. At least not those belonging to young people.
The sheriff nods. “Sounds like Goodwin and Thomas have it well in hand. But there’s likely to be a bunch more folk coming through here and y’all probably don’t want to be in the way. Is there some place quiet you can wait for Mr. Beaumont?” His lips curl into a benevolent but unmistakably lethal grin. Though he asked nicely, this isn’t a request.
Jack nods. “Uh, sure. I guess we can hang out in the library. Hey, Coop, come on, we’re moving out of here.”
“Huh?” Cooper’s head snaps up. He stares at us for a second. When Jack motions toward the library, Cooper nods. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” Pushing off the bench, he heads across the foyer, his expression as flat as an ironing board.
“He’s still in shock,” I tell the sheriff, as if it’s not totally obvious.
“I bet,” Sheriff Walker says as he accompanies us to the library door. Ducking his head, he scans the room, then watches as we take our seats. Cooper and I share one of the huge, red-silk sofas while Jack settles into a leather club chair. “It shouldn’t be too long. Soon as Beau gets here, we’ll have a little talk about how you found her. Until then, I’m going to have a look-see around the house. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, course not.” Cooper shakes his head and his eyes drift toward the window to stare out at the rose garden.
When Sheriff Walker steps away, a wave of relief crashes over me. Thank goodness Jack had us straighten Cooper’s room. That mess would have definitely raised his suspicions. But then my stomach drops just as fast. The solarium. We didn’t think to check it this morning and have no idea whether it’s still the shambles it was last night before we left. Knowing Missy, there’s no chance she cleaned it up and even less that Beau fixed it. What the heck is the sheriff going to think when he sees it?
Jack shoots me a look, his twin sense undoubtedly on full alert. “What’s wrong, Em?”
“The solarium,” I whisper, just in case Sheriff Walker’s still in the hall, eavesdropping.
A deep grunt rumbles in his chest. “Dang. I didn’t even think about that.” Sinking back into the club chair, he rubs his chin. “There’s nothing we can do about it. If they see it, we’ll just say it’s under renovation. It already looks like it’s been hit by a wrecking ball. Plus, since her fingerprints are all over the place, we’re safe. It can’t implicate us like the knife.”
As if he’s just reminded himself of the real danger, Jack
Sirens wail and speed toward the house. Jack and I spring off the bench and charge to open the front door. Two sheriff cars barrel down the driveway at top speed, kicking up gravel, then skid to a stop behind the ambulance in front of the Big House. The two deputies in the first car barely allow it to come to a stop before jumping out and racing up the front steps.
The first, a thick-necked, muscle-bound specimen of crime-fighting prowess, clasps his hand on the grip of his holstered revolver. “Where’s the crime scene?” he asks Jack.
“Upstairs, hang a right, then head to the end of the hall.”
Muscles and his partner fly up the stairs. A second later the Beaufort County sheriff jogs up the porch steps, then wipes the soles of his buffed cowboy boots on the mat before stepping into the house. Moving with less urgency than his deputies, he removes his ten-gallon hat. His close-shorn gray hair sets off his light brown skin. “Morning. I’m Sheriff Walker. Beau home?”
I rise off the bench. “No, but he’s on his way. Mrs. Beaumont’s upstairs. In the master bathroom. The paramedics are up there, too.” Swallowing hard over the lump rising in my throat, I point in the general direction of the growing commotion upstairs. Even from down here, I hear their shocked and almost excited voices. St. Helena’s a pretty sleepy island so I’m guessing they don’t come across many dead bodies. At least not those belonging to young people.
The sheriff nods. “Sounds like Goodwin and Thomas have it well in hand. But there’s likely to be a bunch more folk coming through here and y’all probably don’t want to be in the way. Is there some place quiet you can wait for Mr. Beaumont?” His lips curl into a benevolent but unmistakably lethal grin. Though he asked nicely, this isn’t a request.
Jack nods. “Uh, sure. I guess we can hang out in the library. Hey, Coop, come on, we’re moving out of here.”
“Huh?” Cooper’s head snaps up. He stares at us for a second. When Jack motions toward the library, Cooper nods. “Oh, yeah. Sure.” Pushing off the bench, he heads across the foyer, his expression as flat as an ironing board.
“He’s still in shock,” I tell the sheriff, as if it’s not totally obvious.
“I bet,” Sheriff Walker says as he accompanies us to the library door. Ducking his head, he scans the room, then watches as we take our seats. Cooper and I share one of the huge, red-silk sofas while Jack settles into a leather club chair. “It shouldn’t be too long. Soon as Beau gets here, we’ll have a little talk about how you found her. Until then, I’m going to have a look-see around the house. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, course not.” Cooper shakes his head and his eyes drift toward the window to stare out at the rose garden.
When Sheriff Walker steps away, a wave of relief crashes over me. Thank goodness Jack had us straighten Cooper’s room. That mess would have definitely raised his suspicions. But then my stomach drops just as fast. The solarium. We didn’t think to check it this morning and have no idea whether it’s still the shambles it was last night before we left. Knowing Missy, there’s no chance she cleaned it up and even less that Beau fixed it. What the heck is the sheriff going to think when he sees it?
Jack shoots me a look, his twin sense undoubtedly on full alert. “What’s wrong, Em?”
“The solarium,” I whisper, just in case Sheriff Walker’s still in the hall, eavesdropping.
A deep grunt rumbles in his chest. “Dang. I didn’t even think about that.” Sinking back into the club chair, he rubs his chin. “There’s nothing we can do about it. If they see it, we’ll just say it’s under renovation. It already looks like it’s been hit by a wrecking ball. Plus, since her fingerprints are all over the place, we’re safe. It can’t implicate us like the knife.”
As if he’s just reminded himself of the real danger, Jack
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